


Ghostly Hymns

by PlethoraOfCreatures



Category: Original Work
Genre: All because of the one song, Blink and you'll miss it on that last one, College, Fires, Gen, Ghosts, It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You, Paranormal, Piano, Religion, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Supernatural Elements, it's implied - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 05:11:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18631486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlethoraOfCreatures/pseuds/PlethoraOfCreatures
Summary: Part of a larger work I'm working on.All I wanted was to get out of that dorm room. I couldn't breathe in there.But I was so not ready for this shit.





	Ghostly Hymns

**Author's Note:**

> What it says on the tin, really. Thoughts?

I walked into the empty auditorium, the cool air brushing my face. It was a stark contrast to the stuffy and crowded room I had been in fifteen minutes ago.

The only light that was on was the one on the stage, a slightly dim spotlight throwing the shadows off of the old grand piano that rested there like a great big animal sleeping.

Not wanting to just stay in the dark, I hurried up onto the stage. When I got there and stood next to the piano, I felt rather stupid.

What was I going to do? Just stand there awkwardly for the rest of the night?

I looked around, and though my night vision was ruined by the spotlight, I couldn’t see any movement. What the hell. Why not?

I sat down on the old bench to the piano and winced as it groaned in protest of my weight. I lifted the lid that was covering the keys and debated what to play.

I never had any piano lessons. All the songs I knew were the ones that I looked up how to play online and were fairly simple. Half of what I knew to play were only bits and pieces of actual songs.

Jingle bells? What am I, a five-year-old? It’s not even Christmas.

Test Drive, from _How To Train Your Dragon_? Better, but that gets repetitive.

Then it hit me.

The Kingsfold Hymn. Simple, pretty. I liked it.

The only song I’ve heard it in was _I Heard the Voice of Jesus Say_. A church song. It’s not like I’m one to burst into hymns of praise for our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, so there was no harm in playing it.

My fingers found the keys and started the intro. The keys were in amazing condition, and the piano played smoothly, filling the auditorium with soft notes.

I was never able to play more than one set of notes at a time, much like not being able to type with more than two fingers at a time. Sure, I might use different fingers, but there were never more than two on the keyboard.

The notes were fairly simple. Pick an octave, and then:

_FE D D D C F F G FG A A GF DC_

_FE D D D C F F G FG A A GF D D_

_AB♭ C A AG F G G A FG A AG F D C_

_FE D D DC DE F F G FG A A GF D D_

When I had finished the first verse, I paused. I thought I could hear a rustling sound. I looked out around me once again, but there was no one there. I Started playing once more. The same notes. But this time, another instrument joined me. It was a viola, playing the alto part of the song.

I stopped like I had been shocked, and then the viola stopped as well.

“Hello? Who’s there?” I asked, once more peering out into the darkness. There was no response.

I shrugged, figuring that it was an orchestra kid who wanted to romance me with his musical talents or something but was too shy to let his face be seen. Oddly specific, but what murderer played a duet of church song with their intended victim before they kill them?

I restarted from the first verse, and the viola started playing again, this time, a few notes later, but still perfectly in time with me. Once bitten, twice shy.

When we had finished the verse, I said to the darkness, “You know, I won’t make fun of you. I think you’re really good,” Despite this, I got no response, though I had the sense that the mystery player was smiling.

We started the second verse, and what happened next almost made me fall out of my seat.

A third instrument joined in, an organ, playing the tenor.

Apart from a small pause in my piano playing, which the viola and the organ covered easily, I gave no reaction to the third player.

I thought I should have more of a reaction than that because we don’t even have an organ, much less an organ player.

I realized that I had started playing louder, maybe at mezzo-forte, as opposed to when I had started, I was a pianississimo. The viola was slightly softer, and the organ still softer than the viola.

We finished the second verse, and I started playing a little interlude to give me time. “Okay, I kinda want to see who you are. Like, I’m a little freaked out now, but it’s cool because people who play random church songs on a whim can’t be that bad,” I said and started the third verse.

The third verse would usually be the last one, but since I was an over-dramatic person, I added a key change and a repeat of the first verse, played very softly, as a finale.

And surprise, surprise, another part was added. But this time, it wasn’t one instrument. It sounded like a brass section but melded together perfectly. I couldn’t even pick out the low tones of a tube, but I knew it was there.

They were about the same level as the rest of us, forgoing starting at pianississimo and going at a regular level. I was scared now. This wasn’t some kid trying to impress me. This was like, marriage-level set-up.

Oh god. Was some classmate of mine trying to take me to the college prom?

And now I’m judging myself. Prom is basically the same thing as marriage when you’re younger than twenty-five.

I continued to play on, my mind whirling. There was still a key change and my repetition of the final verse to play. I would cross that bridge when I got to it. I just continued to play.

We wrapped up the third verse, and my fingers automatically prepared for the key change. I had no idea if the others would transition as quickly as before.

I got to the measure, and I just went for it.

To my shock, my own transition was seamless. But more than that, the instruments playing with me had continued with me without missing a beat.

A thought came to me: It wasn’t just they hymn _I Heard the Voice of Jesus Say_ that I had heard these notes. There was another song. _O Sing a Song of Bethlehem_. My key change seemed appropriate now.

The last verse was:

_O sing a song of Cavalry,_

_Its glory and dismay,_

_Of him who hung upon a tree,_

_And took our sins away._

_For he who died on Calvary_

_Is risen from the grave,_

_And Christ, our Lord, by heaven adored,_

_Is mighty now to save._

The auditorium was thrumming, like a crowd of people was running through it. A faint scent of smoke wafted through the air, though if anything was burning, it would have stood out in the dark room like a flare. But it wasn’t the extra players. The music was still as strong as ever.

The key change ended, and the auditorium was silent. I played my last part, and the last note trailed off into the dark void in front of me.

And after all that had happened in this room, you’d think nothing could surprise me.

You’d be wrong.

Someone started clapping. It was just one person. Just one set of hands.

And what was really eerie was that there was no other noise. No rustling of clothes, not shifting of feet, no heavy breathing. Just that one person. Clapping for me.

I was _so_ done. I stood up and marched over to where I knew the light switch should be. I flicked on the lights, and the auditorium lit up like a Christmas tree, looking even larger than usual due to the utter lack of people.

Not a single person was in that room except for me.

“Oh, fuck this,” I muttered. I usually didn’t swear, which was shocking for a college student, but I was handling my fear the way I usually did: Either try to science it out of existence, or try to scare it back.

I leaped off the stage and ran back and forth across the rows of seats, looking for any recent signs of people.

Five rows, ten rows, twenty. Nothing.

Thirty rows, forty, fifty.  I was halfway through.

Sixty rows, seventy-five.

Eighty. Ninety.

I got to the back of the auditorium, and out of barely-concealed desperation seized the door handles and yanked, even though I knew they were locked.

They didn’t budge.

A flash of fear washed over me and I turned. The brightly lit auditorium seemed darker now. Shadows flickered in the corners, and the old wooden floors felt their age and groaned. The auditorium seemed almost _alive_.

As I ran back to the door that I had entered, the room seemed to regard me sadly, sorrowfully.

It knew what had happened. It had seen it before. And all it could do was stand there, planted in the earth, and try to chase off the malevolent ghosts of its past and the malevolent ghost of those entered, while the ancestors waited in the seats for the show to begin.  


End file.
